of equal ago with me, upon the sad threshold of old age. And perhaps indeed his neighbors around are perplexing him, nor is there any one to ward off war and destruction. Yet he indeed, hearing of thee being alive, both rejoices in his mind, and every day expects to see his dear son returned from Troy. But I [am] every way unhappy, for I begat the bravest sons in wide Troy, of whom I say that none are left. Fifty there were to me, when the sons of the Greeks arrived; nineteen indeed from one womb, but the others women bore to me in my palaces. And of the greater number fierce Mars indeed has relaxed the knees under them; but Hector, who was my favorite,[1] and defended the city and ourselves, thou hast lately slain, fighting for his country; on account of whom I now come to the ships of the Greeks, and bring countless ransoms, in order to redeem him from thee. But revere the gods, O Achilles, and have pity on myself, remembering thy father; for I am even more miserable, for I have endured what no other earthly mortal [has], to put to my mouth the hand of a man, the slayer of my son."
Thus he spoke; but in him he excited the desire of mourning for his father; and taking him by the hand, he gently pushed the old man from him. But they indeed, calling to mind, the one[2] wept copiously [for] man-slaughtering Hector, rolling [on the ground] before the feet of Achilles; but Achilles bewailed his father, and again in turn Patroclus; and their lamentation was aroused throughout the house. But when noble Achilles had satiated himself with grief, and the desire [for weeping] had departed from his heart and limbs, immediately rising from his seat, he lifted up the old man with his hand, compassionating both his hoary head and hoary chin; and, addressing him, spoke winged words:
"Alas! wretched one, thou hast certainly suffered many evils in thy mind. How hast thou dared to come alone to the ships of the Greeks, into the sight of the man who slew thy many and brave sons? Assuredly thy heart is iron. But come now, sit upon a seat; and let us permit sorrows to sink to rest within thy mind, although grieved; for there is not any use in chill grief. For so have the gods destined to unhappy mortals, that they should live wretched; but they
